


Kama-Spook-Tra: Explicit!

by dot11



Series: Kama-Spook-Tra [3]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Crack, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Ghost Sex, Ghosts, Halloween, Haunted House, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Possession, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Sexy Times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-29
Updated: 2016-10-29
Packaged: 2018-08-27 11:39:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8400244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dot11/pseuds/dot11
Summary: During their first year in the field, FitzSimmons are called in to investigate a “haunted house” on Halloween. Neither believe it is actually haunted until the spirits of the previous elderly owners need their help to fulfill their last request before moving on. How were the two friends to know that the sweet couple had a particularly intimate last request?Each version of the Kama-Spook-Tra series is the same story, but for different audiences! This version is rated E for Explicit, which means racy and detailed descriptions of sexual content.





	

**Author's Note:**

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“Relax, Fitz. You and I both know that it's just an old house,” Simmons tutted, tapping at her trifold tablet to direct the D.W.A.R.F.s around the dusty old living room. 

“Yeah, an old  _ creepy  _ house,” he insisted, frowning over his shoulder at her. “Why did Coulson have to send us to an actual haunted house on Halloween of all nights?”

They both stood in the middle of the dark room filled with overstuffed sofa-chairs and antique tables, all covered in plastic sheets. It had clearly been a long time since anyone had been here, and it looked like no one had bothered to claim any of the possessions. The house was due to be condemned soon, but the number of complaints coming from the neighbours warranted at least a quick investigation in case something more was going on. Fitz and Simmons had been volunteered for the job, much to Fitz’s apparent dismay.

“Don't start spouting nonsense now,” Jemma quipped. “It's not like you actually believe there are ghosts here, do you?” She raised an eyebrow at him, hoping he didn’t notice the  worry edging her voice.

“‘Course not. Ghosts aren't real.” Fitz smirked, shrugging. 

Jemma nodded too, satisfied. “Exactly. In all probability, it’s merely some trick that's got the locals spooked.”

The lights flickered off momentarily, and in a fit of alarm, Simmons reached down to grab Fitz’s hand. Unfortunately, her fingers quite missed their target and instead fell against a very different object beneath the front of his jeans. Fitz stiffened, a strangled gasp of surprise escaping his lips. Jemma quickly apologized and stepped away, blushing furiously. When the lights flickered on again a moment later, they both looked quickly away from each other as though nothing had happened.

Fitz frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. “Y’know, I would have felt more comfortable if one of the others could have come with us,” he said gruffly. “Perhaps May. Someone trained in defense.”

“What would we possibly need defending over? It’s just a silly old house,” Simmons huffed, feeling her bravado edge its way back into her system. “ _ You're _ being paranoid, Fitz.”

“Am not! It's common sense, Simmons,” he snapped, wandering over to the other side of the room and kicking at an old pile of papers. “Nine times out of ten, a supposed haunting turns out to be a prank or some nefarious scheme plotted out by an evil business owner. Who knows what we’ve stumbled into?”

“Fitz. This is not an episode of Scooby-Doo. This is merely an old house that, according to the neighbours, was owned by the same sweet elderly couple for decades.” She stepped carefully over a small pile of newspapers and tested a lamp. “In all likelihood it's just an outdated toxin in the insulation that's wreaking havoc on the air supply. If it were more dangerous than that, Coulson would have sent the rest of the team in,” she pointed out. “And it's not like May isn't just a message away if you’re really frightened.”

“Never said I was  _ afraid,  _ Simmons,” he countered. “Just being practical. None of the D.W.A.R.F.s are giving much in terms of readings, so your toxin theory probably doesn’t-” At that, both Fitz and Simmons’ tablets lit up with an alert of strange activity near the base of the stairs. Simmons stuck her nose in the air, then marched off to investigate.

She stood facing a blank wall and watched as the scanner sent packets of information to her tablet from Bashful. Unfortunately, the drone was not in sight, clearly having wandered into another room closeby. Fitz caught up behind her, and she smiled smugly at him. 

“There. What did I tell you? No disenfranchised business-owners in costumes this time. Looks like Bashful has definitely found some sort of odd energy signature in this area of the house.” 

Fitz nodded, leaning over her shoulder to look at the tablet.  She suddenly felt a  rush of heat slither down her spine. She licked her lips,  fighting the urge to press her body back against him. W hen she turned her head to speak to him, he  flinched and moved away as though he’d been shocked. Her eyebrows snapped together, and she was just about to ask if he was okay, when he cut her off.

“Where is Bashful anyways?” Fitz clenched his jaw,  shoving his hands deep into his pockets. “Let's just grab a sample of whatever it is and take it back to the lab so we can get out of here.”

She examined his face carefully, attempting to discern  what about him felt somehow different.  She noticed beads of sweat forming at his hairline, and she had to stop herself, oddly tempted to find out what they tasted like. She pursed her lips.  “Yes, that’s a good idea. With any luck we can clear this whole thing up and be done in time for the costume party back on the bus later.”

Fitz screwed up his face, looking pained. “Right. The costume party. Almost forgot. Y’know, I think everyone else only agreed to it to get you to stop pestering them.”

She gaped at him. “Don't say that, Fitz! I’ve worked so hard on my costume!” Fitz shrugged, turning away from her down a hallway \- the slight flick of his eyes up and down her  body  did not escape her notice.  Simmons frowned and followed close behind. “And how could you have forgotten about it? We’ve been planning this for over a week!”  He stopped abruptly, and she bumped right into his backside. They both leapt apart again, spinning to face each other properly.

Fitz opened his mouth wide like he was going to say something, then clearly thought better of it and tried again. “Dunno. Guess I’ve had other things on my mind.” Jemma stood her ground, waiting for him to give her a better response. He rolled his eyes then ducked his head into his tablet. “You don't find it odd that Coulson insisted we investigate this clearly low-level call specifically on Halloween night? They’re trying to keep you distracted from that party.”

Simmons dropped her jaw, realizing for the first time that perhaps he was correct. None of the others seemed nearly as enthused about it as she had hoped. But she and Fiz always had fun on Halloween, and she didn’t want their foray into the field to change that for them. He didn’t say it often, but she knew he was having a difficult time adjusting. 

“Well, no matter,” she shrugged. “We’ll get this done quick enough. We all could do with a bit of fun, I think. Even if we have to force it down the others’ throats!” She jabbed forcefully at her tablet, not fully registering Bashful’s latest scan. 

“I suppose,” Fitz muttered. She could sense him looking over at her, and she remained still, that sudden heat rushing through her again, creating an almost uncomfortable sensation, a persistent itch in need of scratching...  “I  _ do  _ have a whole stash of Irn-Bru Bars that mum just sent over,” Fitz said wistfully. “It's the one time of year I can gorge on them, so it’d be nice to get back for that at least.” He let out a soft chuckle, turning his twinkling eyes on her, and her breath suddenly caught in her throat.  “Skye’s probably already found where I've hidden the box. We’ll need to get back before she eats ‘em all on me!” 

And all at once, Jemma understood, her ears beginning to pulse with unwarranted anger. “This isn’t still about Skye is it?”  She attempted to keep her tone even, yet his  smile immediately began to fade,  and her chest constricted. “You know she’s decided to stay,  so you may still have a chance there. Her bunk  _ is  _ right next to yours.” She laughed bitterly.

Fitz froze and dropped his mouth open. “I don’t- I never-!”

She rolled her eyes. “Please, Fitz, you’re so  _ transparent  _ when you have feelings for someone.”

“That’s not true!” He continued to gape at her.  “Skye is the furthest thing from my mind! I would never -”

“I’m sure,” Jemma clicked her tongue. “Just be careful. She  _ is  _ part of the team,  and the walls of the bus are particularly thin.”

“Can we  _ please _ stop talking about this?” He begged, scraping a hand across his mortified face. “I just want to get out of this ridiculous house and get back to my candy, okay?” 

Fitz turned his back to her, yet Jemma was  feeling oddly lighter despite his obvious irritation.

“Fine,” she said brightly. “But we’ll need to collect that sample first before we head back. Fitz, you go check that other room while I investigate through here to see where Bashful’s gotten to.” She gestured down the hallway to the right.

“Now hold on,” Fitz stopped in his tracks. “Why are we splitting up? That’s always the first mistake in the films, you know.”

She glared at him,  but nearly stopped herself. She  _ would  _ prefer sticking close to him… Simmons shook her head, logic prevailing against whatever odd fancy had nearly derailed her senses.  “The longer we stick together, the longer we stay in this house alone. Is that what you want?” 

Fitz grumbled incoherently,  and she felt a pang of regret as she watched him wander off to the other room with his flashlight on high alert.

* * *

Fitz was doing everything in his power to keep his mind occupied on the task at hand: find Bashful, get a sample, head back to the bus. Easy. No need for any bells and whistles. No need for any awkward or extended conversations with  his partner in this particularly warm old house . He’d be able to get back in time for a healthy gorging of his favourite candy and hopefully drift off into a dreamless sleep.  _ Dreamless  _ was the key here. 

Fitz stepped through the ornate and cobwebbed doorway, but instead of walking into the study as he expected, he suddenly found himself in another room entirely. The walls were a deep burgundy, and there were flickering candles all around. A large, draped bed stood in the centre of the room. The whole thing was oddly familiar…

Like a punch to the stomach, he realized exactly where he had seen this room before, and, frankly, he was surprised it had taken him so long. Last night, Fitz’s dreams had  _ not _ been dreamless. For whatever reason, his brain had chosen to jumble up all of his and Simmons’ talk of Halloween and costumes, and it had spat out an altogether ridiculous scenario: In a room exactly like this one, he and Simmons had  engaged in their own private costume party - the kind where the costumes revealed more skin than anything and were very easily removable.

Fitz had awoken with his hands down his trousers, already half-spent in dealing with the particularly sensitive situation. He had been unable to get to sleep, and was now in need of new set pyjama pants. All day, he was doing everything he could to put the searing images from his mind, but he was finding it very difficult. Especially after her accidental grope earlier. And here he was now, standing in the very setting of his dream, with Simmons just down the hall! This was either a cruel prank, or the cosmos were very much against him. 

“Fi-itz…” Simmons was calling for him. He shook his head , knowing the sultry purr in her voice was all in his very uncooperative imagination. But then he did a double-take. It almost sounded as though she was calling from  _ within  _ the room - from behind the heavy drapes of the bed. 

“Simmons?” he replied nervously, and moved forward with a gulp. “N-no pranking, please. We’re adults now, so-” He paused as soon as he had taken his first step, and gawked up at the bed.

“Fitz… come here...” Simmons had pulled back the drapes of the bed so he could see her.   Entirely naked except for a small witch hat perched on her head, she fell back against the pillows, spreading her legs and lifting one knee so he could just see her - Fitz slapped his hands over his eyes and let out a strangled noise. She giggled. “How can we pick our costumes if we don’t try them out?” she said in a distinctly sultry voice.  “Come help me try mine out.”

Fitz swallowed and found himself moving towards her. “Right. We should…” She lifted  her pointer finger to her lips and sucked,  arching  her back and stretching out towards him . He swallowed hard , but just as he was reaching out for her, he stumbled forward on an old box and went tumbling to the floor. 

“Fucking hell!” He cursed loudly. 

“Fitz?” Simmons called out. 

When he straightened himself back up and dusted his knees, the sight greeting him sent a shiver down his spine. Gone were the candles and the burgundy walls and the ornate four-poster bed. In their place was the usual old, dusty room and plastic-covered furniture. The bed did not look inviting, there were no candles and definitely no Simmons.

“Fitz! Can you hear me?”  She called again, this time from behind. Her tone was now far less sultry, more on the irritated side. Fitz shook his head and took a sharp breath to collect himself.

“Yeah, j-just a minute,” he squeaked.

“Come here and help me with this!”

“W-what?!” he said too loudly.

“Hurry up! What are you doing?”

“N-nothing!”

Fitz sped back through the doorway as quickly as he could, desperate to get away from that strange room and… whatever it was that had just happened. They definitely needed to grab a proper sample and get out of this old house as soon as possible before there were any other strange occurrences.

* * *

Jemma heard the creak of Fitz’s footsteps on the stairs before she saw him coming, and decided to have a bit of fun. Crouching behind the bookshelves, she waited patiently for the precise moment and then - “Fitz!” she yelled, leaping out at him. 

“AH!” He whirled around with a loud shout just as she was rushing into him, and they both fell to the floor in a heap of limbs. She ended up sprawled on top of him, his panicked expression inches from her face. 

They were frozen in place like that for a moment. Once again she was overwhelmed with the inexplicable need to press herself down against his warm body. She managed to keep still, but with a start, she realized exactly what part of him was pressed hard against her thigh. She let some air escape her lips, then rolled off of him. Staring at the ceiling next to him on the floor, a laugh burst from her lips. “I’m sorry!” She covered her mouth, trying to keep a straight face. “I just-” she bit her lip and they both sat up. “I found this little nook behind the bookshelf and wanted you to see it!” She paused and centered herself, offering a hand out so they could help each other up. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he grumbled,  scrambling up on his own and angling away from her, his hands in his pockets.  “If you must know, there’s definitely something strange going on. A hallucinogen of some sort must be in play because-” he stopped short. 

“Oh?” She raised an eyebrow. “Because? Did you see something?”

He opened his mouth,  panicked and  unsure sure how to proceed. She smiled encouragingly, coaxing him to go on, but he just stood there, mouth hanging open like a fish. “N- I ju- There was a- No. No, nothing strange.” She cocked her head, narrowing her eyes at him. He shook his head, then grinned innocently. “What did  _ you  _ find?” 

She waited a moment. Was it worth pursuing this line of questioning, or should it wait until after she showed him her own discovery? At the almost pleading look on his pale face, she opted to let this slide for the time being. “Alright,” she conceded, then rubbed her hands together in excitement. “Prepare yourself, Fitz… and stand just here!” 

Jemma motioned for him to stand close on the circle of differently-coloured flooring, but he gave her a wary expression. She shot him an exasperated look. “Relax, Fitz, I won’t bite! Come in close.”

He stepped forward cautiously, and she grabbed his  waist  to pull him in closer.  Looking up at the ceiling, he kept his expression neutral as she furrowed her eyebrows at him. Exhaling, she  pulled one of the lighting fixtures on the shelf. With a lurch and a groan, the floor began to rotate, and  he moved in closer as they both slowly spun around into the secret room she had found. 

Fitz let out a low gasp. Bashful was still busy scanning away at the walls like she’d found him. The room was dark and musty, and there wasn’t much in there. Visible in the low light was an old suit and top hat, perched onto a wooden chair next to a small side table. She would have to remember later to theorize with Fitz how the small drone had even got into the room on his own, but first, she wanted to show him the  _ really  _ interesting item she’d found.

Jemma stepped forward and picked up the old book that lay innocently on the table. “Looks like it’s an old diary,” she said, lifting the cover with a creak. 

“Must’ve belonged to the old owners. I’m getting the feeling they were a bit eccentric.” Fitz peered around the small room, attempting to bat away at the large cobwebs near their heads. “How did you say they died again?”

Simmons looked up at him with an expression that said she knew what he was getting at. “According to the reports, it wasn’t anything suspicious, before you let your imagination run away with you again, Fitz.” She rolled her eyes. “The owner, Frank Mort, passed away first of a stroke, and his wife Effie went soon after of congenital heart failure. Both peacefully, at home. No unfinished business, no regrets, and a loving family left behind.”

He narrowed his eyes skeptically. “And no one else was murdered here? No other secrets? I mean, they did have a secret room, so…”

“Just stop it,” she groaned. “There’s no reason to even consider them as ghosts! Even humoring your ridiculous theory for a moment, what would a happy elderly couple even need to stick around for anyways?”

Fitz huffed and plucked the book from her. “Dunno, but I bet this would tell us.” He began flipping through the pages defiantly. “Here. October 6th. ‘ _Frank and I had a fight today over who should do the washing up after dinner. One of these days I’m going to snap and just murder that man!’_ ” Fitz looked up and gave her a very knowing look, but she just rolled her eyes and shifted behind him. Finding his heat intoxicating but managing to stop herself from rubbing her hands over his shoulders, she peered over them instead, her lips inches from his neck. Simmons pointed at the pages in his hands. 

“But keep reading…” She reached  around  and held the book with him, letting her hands rest behind  his warm ones. To her disappointment, he flinched away to let her have the book to herself. He really was being particularly touchy today.  Or was it her?

“ _Luckily,”_ she read, _“Frank and I have always had our policy of not going to sleep angry. And while I can’t promise we didn’t go to_ bed _angry, Frank and I certainly know how to let off our steam between those sheets._ ”

Fitz gulped audibly beside her. “Err, well. You don’t suppose that means they-”

Simmons bit her lip. “They  _ were  _ a married couple, Fitz. I’m sure they had long since mastered the art of makeup sex.” Fitz nodded, but remained uncomfortably silent, shoving his hands in his pockets as she read on. “And all other kinds of sex too, by the looks of it,” Jemma breathed. “These entries are just full of sordid exploits! It all reads like some sort of dirty romance novel.” She raised her eyebrows into her hairline. “I can see why they kept  _ this  _ hidden from their family. It’s like their own private Kama Sutra!”

“The Kama - what?”

“Oh, Fitz.” Her expression softened. 

“Well-” he put his hands on his hips, “what’s the last entry? Maybe that’ll give us a clue about what’s going on here.” 

Simmons shrugged and flipped to the last page, glancing up at him. “ _ Frank has been gone for three months and I miss him every day, _ ” she read quietly. “ _ And I find I’m angry at him more than anything. How dare he leave me alone like this? It’s agonizing. There’s only one thing that ever helped us move past our anger, and I can’t do that without him. If I had one wish, it would be that I could make love to my husband one last time. _ ”

The silence that hung in the air was palpable until Fitz cleared his throat. “Well. That’s almost romantic. In a way…” 

Suddenly, the tablet Simmons had placed on the table started lighting up with a number of readings and Bashful whizzed across the room to hover near the book. 

“Goodness, it’s getting hot!” Simmons exclaimed, gripping the edges of the cover  as a shiver went down her spine . 

“Jemma, you should put that down…”

“I know, but I can’t, Fitz,” she said breathlessly,  her knees turning to water . “For some reason, I can’t let- Oh! Oh…”  She gasped as the warm shiver returned and settled itself between her legs, that persistent itch turning almost painful with longing.

Fitz tried to move towards her, concerned, but she shot him a look that told him to keep away. That brief moment of eye contact did something, shifted that throb of longing, pulling it apart, sending it in waves to the rest of her body.  She shut her eyes tight and  pressed herself back against the cool wall , using it to hold herself up. She let out a low groan, twisting her head away,  knowing Fitz was watching her.

Her knees  buckled , and it was like a thousand bolts of electricity went off in her mind.  Surges of pleasure coursed through her body.  She bit her lip to hold back a series of moans  that threatened to escape her, skin begging to be touched.

That’s when Fitz’s concerned hand seared against her shoulder, sending her over the edge. She tilted her head, and pressed herself closer to the wall,  her body  rocking  back and forth, low  groans of pleasure escaping from her lips. She gripped the book in one hand, bringing it up against the wall, biting at the corner of the pages, trying to gain control or lose control - she wasn’t entirely sure which. Fitz must be alarmed, and she should probably be concerned herself,  but she was far too distracted by the toe-curling orgasm she was having in front of her best friend .

When she let out one final  guttural  wail, he reached around and grabbed the book off of her, throwing it to the floor. At that precise moment, Bashful let out a pitiful bleep and fell from the air, out of power - as did the rest of their flashlights and equipment, all dead. 

“...Simmons?” Fitz asked nervously from the other side of the room.  “Did you just..?”

She rolled her head against the wall to face him in the darkness,  still panting. She cleared her throat, collecting herself. “S-sorry,” she shut her eyes. “Not sure what came over me. Definitely need to take a sample of that journal back to the lab.”

Fitz said nothing, but tried to let their predicament sink in for her. “I’m sure we can once the power comes back on, Simmons, but…”

“Right.” She pressed the heel of her palm against her forehead. They stood in the dark, not even Bashful emitting any light. “Do you think it was an EMP?” she asked, but Fitz didn’t respond. “Well, we should find some candles while we wait.”

“You sure you’re okay? We should go back and get the others to be sure. Clearly something funny is going-”

“Don’t be silly, Fitz,” she cut him off,  doing her best to pretend nothing untoward had just happened. “Once we get that sample, I’m sure it’ll just indicate an air… toxin… or something.” Her head felt rather fuzzy, like a part of her brain had gone numb. Shaking her head to clear it, she decided there was no need to worry Fitz by saying anything about it. She was sure she would be back to normal in a moment, once whatever that diary had done was out of her system. “Let’s look around a bit more until Bashful can collect that sample, yeah?” She tilted her head, taunting him. “Or are you getting frightened again?”

Fitz snorted grumpily. “You sure you’re alright Simmons? I mean you did just-”

“I’m fine, Fitz!” she said quickly. “Let’s just do what we can until we can get out of here. You go check on Bashful and the others, I’ll get the candles.” 

“Fine then,” he said, gruffly, and reached for the light fixture. “How does this thing work?”

She found herself standing still, not moving to help him so they could get out of the small confined space like she knew she should.

“What now?” he asked, losing patience in his worry.

“Actually I-I think you were right before,” she said inexplicably. “We shouldn’t split up…”

“Alright...” he waited, but she offered no other explanation. “We’ll  _ both  _ find the candles, then try to fix the dwarfs together. Better?” 

“Much!” Simmons said brightly. And she did feel suddenly better. Her head was no longer fuzzy, as she’d expected. Whatever it was must have worn off, and she felt better than she had in ages, all things considered. “I think I saw some candles in one of the bedrooms!” 

She stepped towards the light fixture and pulled him  flush against her - so they would fit through the door of course.  He let out a surprised whimper, and her stomach fluttered.  She was in such an inexplicably good mood all of a sudden that she hardly noticed what she was saying. “Oh! And Fitz, bring that hat…”

“What?” He squeaked.

“You can use it for your costume!”

“I hardly think…” but she spun around and grabbed it quickly, pulling the light fixture to get them back through the door before he could argue any further. If they were going to be stuck here for a little bit, they might as well make the most of it.

* * *

As Fitz and Simmons wandered through the hallways, their eyes began to adjust to the darkness. That didn’t ease Fitz’s nerves any, though, and it clearly didn’t ease Jemma’s either. She was clutching very closely to him and constantly babbling on about nonsense. She only did that when she was particularly nervous. 

“Have you decided what you’re doing for your costume?” she asked. 

“We already discussed that, and we agreed it was going to be a surprise,” he said shortly. Costumes were not something he wanted to discuss with her at that moment, not with the strange things that were definitely afoot in this house.

“Well, I can’t help but picture what you could possibly wear!” she said  in a low voice . “You’d look rather dashing as a magician, for instance.” She thrust the hat towards him again as they passed a large mirror. “Fitz?”

Fitz stopped abruptly in the hallway, screwing up his eyes. Was the light playing tricks on him? He was certain when they walked by that mirror, out of the corner of his eye - had that been another woman next to him -  naked ? Gathering his courage, he walked back to stand in front of the mirror. Simmons went with him, still clutching his arm. 

She cocked her head at her reflection and smiled, adjusting her hair, but otherwise it was still Simmons. He narrowed his eyes at her and then the mirror, then shook his head and kept walking towards the bedroom where the candles supposedly were. They definitely needed a better light source. 

“Fitz? Magician?”

“What?” he asked. She shook the hat in his direction and he smirked. “Right. No thank you. Don’t fancy dressing up as a professional con-artist.”

She rolled her eyes,  laying a hand against his chest. “Well then, what about a period costume? You know dressing like Mr. Darcy is always a big hit.”

“Mr. Who?”

“From Pride and Prejudice,” she said, aghast. “Fitz, how can you not know about him? He’s every woman’s dream man!”

Fitz snorted. “Yeah, just what I fancy being for Halloween,” he snorted. “Now that’s what I call scary.” 

They had come to the room and he held his breath when they walked through the doorway. When everything still looked the same, he relaxed. Simmons let go of his arm, wandering off to the corner, and he started searching through the drawers. 

“And since when have you been into all those girly movies?” he asked, trying to sound casual. “That’s very unlike you, Simmons.”

“Well, there’s a lot you don’t know about me,” she  practically purred. He straightened abruptly, having procured a candlestick that stood straight up in his grip. What was she talking like that for? Jemma grinned, then lit a match she had somehow found. She stepped closer to him, then brought the flame to the tip of the wick, letting it flicker and catch, never taking her eyes off him. He gulped. Finally, she brought the match back to her lips. Rounding them into a perfect o, she blew softly. The match went out, and Fitz let out a heavy breath. 

Jemma reached her hands out to him. Taking the candlestick from him, she placed it on the table, freeing his hands only momentarily before lacing her fingers through his. He looked down and gulped again.  He desperately needed a stiff drink. 

“There,” she wrinkled her nose. “So we can see each other.” 

“Right… yeah…” She was rubbing her fingers rhythmically between his.  “Simmons?” 

“Fitz?”

“Hold on a moment.” He blinked rapidly, then marched out of the room again. He counted to ten, then squared his shoulders and turned back around. To his utter amazement, nothing had changed when he re-entered. The candle still flickered. Simmons was still staring hungrily at him, but now she had perched herself at the edge of the bed, having removed the dust cover. 

“Everything okay?” she asked sweetly. 

It was oddly hot in that room for such a cold night without power. “Y-yeah, fine. Everything’s- How ‘bout you? You’re doing good?”

“I’m doing excellent,” she hummed. “But there is one little thing you could help me with…” She was dangling the top hat from the tip of her finger, leaning forward in such a way that his eyes really only had one place to fall. “Fitz?” A mischievous smile spread across her face. 

“S-Simmons?” He was  _ very  _ wary of her now.  Things felt like they were taking a very definite direction, one that they had  _ never  _ taken before… 

“Put on the hat.” It was not a suggestion. 

He immediately obeyed, getting a slight thrill from her bossy tone.  “There,” he said. “Happy now? Can we g-”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence, because next, inexplicably, Jemma did the most surprising and unfathomable thing he had experienced all evening. She stood and pressed her hot lips to his. 

It took him a moment to register what was happening. But she felt so soft and tasted so delicious that Fitz wrapped his hands around her, pulling her closer. 

She moaned and nipped at his lower lip, thrusting her tongue against his. It was perhaps moving a bit faster and more intensely than he would have expected their first kiss to be.  But the heat between them was intoxicating and he inched closer, clutching his fingers into the back of her shirt. She responded enthusiastically. 

And then he was kissing down her neck, hands were ripping at the buttons of her shirt, and his tongue was licking desperately, lips sucking at the soft, supple flesh of her breasts, and he was overcome with how perfect they felt - and then he paused internally. 

Hold on. He would never move things along  _ that  _ fast. Not with Simmons. They were already rounding second base and they hadn’t even discussed their feelings! And yet, there he was, hungrily kneading his  mouth  into Jemma’s perfect plump breast. He had  _ definitely _ not told his  mouth  to do that. 

Just as he was trying to remember something he’d read about idle hand syndrome, his  hands began caressing hotly down her torso, and his fingers were playing at the fabric of her jeans,  and if he didn’t know any better,  it looked as though he had a definite target in mind. While this exact scenario had been at the edge of his mind on some very late nights, especially lately,  a far more pressing concern was flooding his thoughts at the moment: Was he even in control of his own body?

All of a sudden, he pushed away from her, holding his hand to his mouth.

“Frank, what’s the problem?” Simmons said, her words wrapped in a southern accent that was very much not her own. 

_ Frank? Who’s Frank? I’m Fitz!  _ He thought desperately. 

“Sorry Effie,” Fitz’s lips moved on their own. “He got a bit spooked. Should have eased into him like you did.” 

_ Eased into  _ him _? You mean  _ me _? Who’s Effie? _

“What's spooked him?” Simmons said in the wrong voice again. _ Hold on… Not Effie and Frank… Mort? The ones who used to own this house?  _ he thought. 

“Nevermind,” Fitz heard himself say. Or was it Frank? Frank and Effie, who appeared to have taken control and were very intent on fulfilling his wife’s dying wish. “He’s got the idea now.”

Unable to restrain himself any longer, Frank rushed forward and kissed Effie passionately. Fitz was better prepared for it this time, but was wary of what Simmons’s reaction would be. 

He was definitely not expecting her hand to snake out and rub greedily against the front of his trousers. He slumped against her shoulder, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. 

“I can’t remember the last time you were so easy to set off,” Effie murmured with Jemma’s voice into his hair. “These young bodies are so responsive!” She rubbed feverishly against him until his rational thoughts floated away and Fitz let out a low groan. All of a sudden, her hand snapped away again, and he nearly fell forward at the lack of contact. 

“Fitz? I-I... is this okay? I think you were right about something strange going on. I can’t seem to help myself!” She quickly unbuttoned his jeans then, and her hands reached in, gripping him with her hot hands. His breath hitched, but then her hand froze in place as she fought for control of her body, leaving him in an excruciating state of desire.

Fitz tried to bring his mind back to focus, but heard Frank speaking through him. “Effie, where did you go?”

“She’s… still here…” Jemma said breathlessly, carefully releasing him and shutting her eyes tight, attempting to focus on controlling her own body. “Let me speak to Fitz first, and then I’ll let your wife have her say.”

Fitz felt the rush of concern in Frank as Jemma looked into his eyes and then backed away slightly. He bowed his head. “Of course…” And with that, Fitz felt himself regain some control. 

“Simmons?” 

“Fitz! Are you okay?” She reached out and grabbed his hands in hers. “What do you think is happening?”

“I dunno. I’m fine, just a bit-” He couldn’t think of the word, still attempting to regain his faculties. Extatic? Confused? Desperate for her to touch him again? He released a long gush of air, settling on an all-encompassing “Yeah.” She smiled tightly, fingers playing with the hem of his shirt. He grabbed her wandering hand and wrapped it in his. 

“Sorry!” she said again. “I’m having a very difficult time controlling this Effie woman.”

He found himself rubbing her fingers affectionately. “Simmons,” he said plainly. “It might be time to admit that ghosts are real.”

“For God’s sake of course we’re real!” She snapped suddenly, reaching for Fitz again, her hand pausing as Simmons regained a slight bit of control. “What’s the problem? You are a couple aren’t you? Shouldn’t this all be second nature-?” She paused again for a moment then and cocked her head to the side. Apparently Jemma was somewhere in there, informing this Effie woman exactly what their actual relationship status was. “… Oh, oh I see. No need to shout about it, dear!” 

Fitz shrank internally. It happened every so often. They’d been close for so long that people sometimes just assumed that they were an item. They weren’t, though. He wasn’t her type, and she was far too good for him anyway. He was content enough with being friends, so long as his dreams stayed in line... 

“So… not a couple?” Fitz’s mouth said, disappointed.

“Sorry dear, that's our honest mistake.” Simmons’ body took a step away from Fitz, and his hands lingered in the air, not wanting to let her go. They were both clearly disappointed, and Fitz couldn’t help but feel that same longing for her touch again. “You both just act so much like a couple, we simply assumed,” Effie said through Simmons. “And we were  _ so  _ hoping that you would be able to help us out.” She pouted. Fitz’s eyes zeroed in on that pout. He should have warned Frank to look away. It was impossible for Fitz to refuse Jemma when she had that look on her face… 

_ Help you out?  _ He thought, finding himself intrigued despite the odd circumstances. 

Frank chuckled and shook Fitz’s head in amusement. “Oh son, you know exactly what we mean.” 

Effie tilted Jemma’s head delicately. “Do you really need clarification too, Jemma, dear?” She pursed her lips. “You read my diary. You know what our last wish is...” 

Frank stepped towards Effie again, feeling Fitz’s resolve waver. He was full of the very bravado and sexual confidence that Fitz had never actively possessed. He moved a hand forward, sinking it into Jemma’s soft flesh, but Fitz froze. 

“Please,” Jemma gasped. “This is our last chance.” 

“No one else has found the hat and the diary before, and soon they never will.” Fitz was attempting to focus all his energy on glaring internal daggers at Frank instead of marvelling at how soft  Jemma felt in his hand.  “They’ll be reduced to rubble and we’ll be stuck here forever, unable to move on…”  He began to move his hand again, not entirely sure if it was him or Frank in charge at the moment, until she became somewhat breathless.  Apparently they had been unable to touch each other for a very long time. 

“Frank…” Jemma whimpered. “She wants this, but she’s so torn. What about him?”

Fitz perked up at that. Torn? What was going on in Simmons’s head? What  _ did  _ she feel about him? Was she actually contemplating going through with - er - helping them out? If she wanted to, he could definitely...

“Oh, this is agony!” Frank groaned, dropping his hand. “I forgot how difficult this part of falling in love is. Listen, Effie, he is definitely  _ all for it _ but wants to know what she thinks.” 

_F-falling in-?_ _Excuse me! I never said I was all for it!_

“What? You  _ are  _ all for it! Trust me, lad, I know the signs.” 

_ Well not with me you don’t! _

“Kid. Look down. It's pretty obvious to everyone in the room that you’re game!” 

Fitz remained silent at that, praying Simmons hadn't heard, knowing she had. He could see her eyes wander down to agree with Frank,  and he would have given anything in that moment to be able to look away as Jemma’s eyes lingered to drink him all in.  “Well, Effie?”

Fitz waited through the agonizing silence… He hadn’t even had the chance to sort out if what he was feeling for Simmons was something worth sharing with her, and here he was, basically propositioning her and- 

“Yes!” Jemma finally gasped. “She’s up for it if he is!” 

_ What? Up for it, as in - she  _ wants  _ to? Simmons is okay with-? But  _ why _? _

Frank  grinned hungrily and pulled his wife close him. “Trust me, you chose the right words. He’s been up for it for a while!”  He pushed his hips into hers to demonstrate his point.  A dainty finger pressed against his lips, though, pausing Frank before he could really delve in. 

Fitz waited impatiently while Frank lumbered back again with a growl. “But,” Effie said, “she wants to get things going… At least to start.” Frank met his wife’s eyes, the longing palpable. “I think it’s only fair…”

_ Yeah, me too! _ Fitz thought, having Simmons’ back in any way he could. 

Frank grumbled.  “You’re right. We’ve waited too long for this. I can take a back-seat for a few more minutes.”

They both reached out to shake on it, and Fitz felt control coming back to his body, though the presence of Frank was definitely still hovering within him. 

He took a deep breath and smiled with his own lips. Simmons smiled back, and he knew without a doubt in his mind that it was actually her. And all of a sudden it hit him what, exactly, they had just agreed to. 

* * *

Fitz looked at her with wide, terrified eyes, and Simmons wasn’t entirely certain she looked  much more confident. 

“Hi Fitz,” she said quietly. When he merely gulped in response, she tried again. “I-I suppose we’d best get undressed to start?”

“Yeah,” he squeaked, then cleared his throat. “Yeah. Usually no clothes is preferable.”

She ducked her head and reached for the first button of her shirt. Fitz followed her lead, but then paused, watching her with wide eyes. 

“Y’know we still don’t actually have to do this, Simmons. I know you’ve never really felt that way about m-”

“Fitz.” She stopped him. “We’re helping two people out with an act that is perfectly natural.” She undid the last button. “Honestly, it’s been so long, I can’t believe neither of us thought of this before. Could relieve some pent-up stress from joining the field. Plus you’ll finally get to use that condom you’ve got stowed in your wallet since our first year at the academy. What could possibly go wrong?”

In her head, Effie was chuckling to herself. _Dear, I have never heard someone rationalize this as well as you._ _Why hide it?_ _It might be harder for him to see, but you and I both know exactly_ _how wet you are for this._

“What could go wrong? Really?”  Fitz’s jaw dropped to the floor.  “You remember what happened with Milton? And you and I have to  _ work  _ together after this you know, it’s not just a simple-”

She rushed forward and pressed her lips to his, cutting him off, and they were searing hot. She broke away after a moment, and breathed. “Honestly, Fitz. It’s just sex.”

She turned around and began unbuttoning her shirt. When it and her bra fell to the floor, she heard a low growl of frustration escape from him. Before she could turn back around, his hands had wrapped around her. She exhaled, not expecting him to do something so bold, and finding she rather enjoyed it. He clutched at her breasts, squeezing the soft mounds, pinching her nipples until they were hard and sensitive. Her breath caught as one of his hands moved down her stomach and he immediately slipped his fingers underneath the hem of her jeans. He pressed down slowly, carefully, then stopped. She fell back against him, feeling her breath grow heavy. 

“Just sex, Simmons?”

To her utter annoyance, he sounded cocky. She shut her eyes as she pushed her bum back against him. She smirked, feeling how hard he had grown, then paused as he pulled her tight against him, pressing his fingers against her within her jeans again. She nearly lost herself, indulging in the sensations of his hand straining against the fabric, all while he flicked at the soft skin of her breast, trying to push her into oblivion. 

Then, gathering her wits, she took a deep breath and turned around to face him. “Why? Was there something more you wanted to discuss?” And with that, she unbuttoned his jeans and grabbed hold of his hard cock beneath his boxers. He let out a low groan of surprise as she began pumping her hand along the length of him, lightly, teasing. “Oh Fitz,” she said smiling, rather proud of herself.

His head fell forward onto her shoulder for a moment, but then he came to his senses. “N-nope,” he breathed. “No talking n-needed…” His hands caressed down the curves of her body. He took her nipple in his mouth and cradled her other breast in his palm. He pushed at the fabric on her hips, her jeans dropping down around her ankles, revealing her lacy underwear. The heel of his palm pushed between her legs until even she could feel the dampness begin to seep through. 

Jemma held her breath, her face twisting into rather desperate expressions as she tried to think of something witty to say in response. He felt so good, moving against her, though, that she didn’t quite trust her voice to do anything but moan at the moment - and she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. How had this turned into a competition? She parted her lips to speak, just as he shifted, getting a better angle, and a guttural groan escaped from somewhere deep within her. Fitz smirked and kissed her. 

Not to be outdone, she realized he was still nearly fully clothed. Focusing on keeping her breathing steady as he continued to rub against her, she slowly undid the top button of his shirt, then pressed a kiss into the hot skin at the nape of his throat she had just revealed. She glanced up and saw his eyebrows come together tightly, clearly enjoying the sensation. It was a maneuver that she repeated, slowly, all the way down his chest, pressing kisses into the skin of his belly, the top of his hips, until finally, she came to his jeans.

She was kneeling now, and he stopped breathing, his hands flying off her body and tangling in her hair. Licking her lips, she looked up and their eyes met properly for the first time since this had all started. His expression mirrored exactly what she felt. This was actually about to happen, and he wanted it. He wanted it more than anything she had ever seen him want before. But there was a vulnerableness to that desire. Perhaps, like her, he was so scared of making a wrong move. There was so much to lose. So much to gain. So many thoughts swimming in her mind that she felt she would explode from the sheer volume of it all.

She smiled up at him, then grabbed hold of his jeans and his eyes fluttered shut. She pulled down roughly. It was meant to be a sexy move, but she had given it a bit too much force, and his legs became tangled. He wobbled on the spot, finally tipping with a thump onto the nearby bed, left only in his socks.

Jemma stood straight, beginning to apologize until she heard the telltale signs of Fitz laughing. "What is so funny?" she insisted. "Clearly I didn't mean to-" and before she could say anything more, he grabbed her around the middle and had her pinned to the bed beneath him.

The laughter died on her lips when she realized his mouth was suddenly everywhere. Burning hot wet trails along her shoulder, in the crook of her arm, along the edge of her ribs, his tongue sliding deliciously up the swell of her breast, pressing into her, trying to get as much of his mouth around her as he could.  And then his hands had pushed the fabric of her panties aside and they were curling into her, and she didn’t even try to stop the moan that escaped from her lips. It was as if a fire was lit inside, and she wanted more.

Her lips clung to him, desperately suckling any part of his face she could - kissing, licking between moans as his fingers danced within her. 

Fitz's mouth slid south, and Jemma was caught, trapped in waves of pleasure, an electric surge  as he tongued at the soft, slippery flesh between her legs.  He moved gently, and then with an increasing pressure. She grabbed at him desperately, hands tangled in his curls,  spreading her legs wider, pushing his head harder into her. She tried to bite at her own hand until a voice drifted into her head from some distant place.

_ I'm just going to help us all out here for a moment, dear. _

She was so overwhelmed, so full of need, that she hardly registered what that meant until Jemma found herself flipping Fitz down onto his back. Unable to resist the urge, she kissed him, then pressed her body down over him, letting the sweat that coated her skin slide between them. She straddled her legs across his shoulders then, and arched her back, pushing herself onto his tongue. He eagerly accommodated her, clutching against her thighs, lapping at her wetness, swirling along the rim of her sensitive lips, then spreading his jaw wide to plunge further inside. 

Before she could get lost in the sensations again, she moved her own lips down further, kissing down and down until finally, she had something to suckle on once more. His moan reverberated inside her, and she nearly came then and there. Instead, she let her tongue investigate what other sounds it could elicit from him, swirling along his smooth skin, pressing messy kisses along his length, sucking at the head, using her hands to massage the base of him.

_ " _ Oh Effie!" he cried into her, and Jemma paused for a moment. She had almost forgotten that this wasn't them. This wasn't Fitz beneath her, and her actions weren't her own. Sure, they had started things off, but they were no longer in control - they were merely along for the ride.

It appeared her pause had affected the rhythm they had gotten into, and Frank took full advantage of it. Wiping Fitz's mouth, he crawled out from underneath her and flipped her over onto her stomach. She pressed her knees into the mattress and gripped at the sheets as he lifted her hips, pulling them flush against him.

She cried out as he entered her slick lips, thrusting with a slap of flesh as his hips met her backside. She bit at the pillow and spread her legs wider, letting him thrust deeper and harder.

His hands held her hips still and strong, until they began to wander. They slid, clutching at the flesh of her stomach, exploring, spreading wide over her curves, digging in with a squeeze to the soft flesh of her breasts, which made her moan deeper. 

Then, pressing one hand to her chest, and letting the other travel back down past her stomach, he lifted her so that she was sitting, straddling him, her back pressed into his chest. She rocked her hips, moving up and down at the knees as he continued to slide within her - but then his hands went to where they were joined, and she cried out again as he rubbed his wet fingertips against her clit. 

“I forgot how nimble young bodies could be,” Simmons heard herself gasp, tossing her head back over his shoulder. He tilted her head and bit her lower lip.

Still kneading at her breasts with his other hand, she cried out until she could no longer stand it. She fell forward, on her hands and knees, and pushed back into him. He drove himself harder into her. She was whining with pleasure. They were both growling like animals, his hands clawing at her back, licking the sweat off of her, the sound of their wet bodies slapping against each other almost as overpowering as the sensations that rocketed through her body every time he pounded deeper and harder within her. He kept on, slowing himself just as she was about to lose control.

And then, right before she was going to cross the point of no return, Effie took control again. She removed herself and flipped him down onto his back, straddling him. 

“Fuck!” Frank hissed through Fitz’s gritted teeth. He appeared to enjoy the new angle. “Korea!”

_ What? _

“Goddamned Vietnam! The Great Depression! Holocaust!” He turned to bury his face into the pillow, his hands propping her chest up, apparently torn as to whether or not they were going to actually hold her bouncing breasts. “Running out of gruesome images to keep him in check! Effie, we don’t have much longer!”

She leaned forward and grabbed his hands, pinning them into the cushions. “It’s okay,” she said between short breaths as she pushed, sliding as deep as she could over his hard cock. They both gasped as she arched her back. "Frank!" Effie cried, starting to buck against him.

_ Fitz, _ Jemma thought, and they locked eyes. All she could see was her best friend staring back at her as they rocked their bodies harder and faster together. What could he possibly be thinking, staring up at her like that? He somehow managed to smile  _ his  _ smile, then reached up and pressed hot kisses against her lips, against any part of her he could reach. And just before her mind began to explode, before she felt him twitch and pulse within her, he whispered her name against her skin. “Jemma!”

And then a buzzing sound came from the side of the bed. 

* * *

Their bodies froze, caught in the throes of passion, and their eyes snapped together. They both tried desperately to quiet their ragged breathing, feeling like they’d been caught red-handed.  

“Fitz?” she panted. 

He peered up between Jemma’s glistening breasts. “Th-that’s probably the bus,” he said. 

“Fitz...” she hissed as he reached his arm over the side of the bed to grab for his phone. He felt her clench around him, and he nearly dropped it. 

“Th-they might be worried!” He insisted and answered. “Hello, this is Fitz.” Jemma shot him an exasperated look, and it was that, of all things, that made them both realize that they were back in control of their own bodies. She was still on top of him, and he felt another surge of desire course through him at the thought that it was  _ her _ on top of him...

“Finally!” Skye said on the other line, letting out a snort. “Fitz, of course it’s you, dork. I called your cell.” She rolled her eyes verbally.

“Right. Sorry.”  Knowing it was just them again, he was regretting answering the phone, but there was nothing for it. Jemma was still very much on top of him, and he was finding it very difficult to ignore the slow, determined rocking she was starting with her hips again. Apparently she wasn’t quite ready to be finished yet. He bit at his lip. 

“So are you guys almost done, or what?”

He winced. “Ah, very nearly!” he choked. Jemma had leaned forward and was beginning to nibble on his earlobe. It felt distractingly good...

“Well good, because your D.W.A.R.F. things have been sending a bunch of readings over here and the scan says the place is full of something called Amyl Nitrite?” Skye said. “I have no idea what that is but you guys probably shouldn’t stick around there much longer just in case...”

“Ahh,” he gasped happily as Jemma thrust her hips against him. Adjusting his tone to sound merely interested, he nodded “Aha! Is that so?”

“Also, pretty much everyone else has gone to bed here,” Skye went on as Jemma thrust again and pressed a hand over his mouth so he wouldn’t gasp into the receiver. “So if Simmons was dead set on that costume party, I really don’t think…” she paused. “Fitz? Is everything okay over there?”

He twisted his face free from Jemma’s hand. “What? Yep, yep of course everything’s - ah - everything’s great over here!” She thrust again, regaining some of their lost momentum, and her sneaky hand began to wander. “Just about to finish, actually!” He held his breath, cursing himself for answering the damned phone as Jemma reached down and began playing with him where they were still connected. He was beginning to see spots.

Skye cleared her throat. “You sound pretty distracted, so…” 

“Yup, mhhmm,” he whimpered. 

“So now’s as good a time as any to let you know I found your stash of Candy,” she said quickly.

“Great, that’s -” He stopped. “Wait, you  _ what?”  _ He nearly sat straight up before he caught Jemma’s fierce gaze at full force. She held him down and began sucking on his middle finger, her tongue swirling around it. He gasped. “I mean- that’s totally fine. I, ah, I’ve had more than enough to eat already-” he breathed. “I mean- I’ve had - that is - I’ve… I’ve got to go!”

And with a growl, he hung up and tossed his phone to the other side of the room, then flipped Simmons onto her back. He hovered above her, pinning her down, trying to make sense of his thoughts before she got them distracted again.

“What did Skye want?” she squirmed beneath him impatiently. 

He exhaled, letting his eyes rove up and down her body, fairly certain this was the last time he’d see her like that outside of his dreams. “Oh, you know. Just checking in…” he said. She lifted her hips, taunting him. “Wanted to let us know we’d missed the party…” he mumbled, then shut his eyes tight. “She ate all my candy. And the house is riddled with Amyl Nitrite, so this whole thing has probably been one big hallucination…” he held his breath and opened one eye, and she paused beneath him. 

“Oh,” she said simply. “Really? ...So Frank and Effie…?”

“...Are  _ not  _ actual ghosts, as we suspected, no.”

“Well.” She blinked. “That’s almost a shame. I learned quite a lot from them.” She gave a small smile, but a crease began to form between her eyebrows, which Fitz knew meant she was deducing. Fitz felt the hard crush of reality begin to set in as he watched the wheels in her mind turn. This wasn’t real, and never had been. Just a big hallucinogenic mess they’d gotten themselves wrapped up in and carried away with. Not that it hadn’t been  _ fun _ and all, but it was  _ unprofessional  _ is what it all was. 

“Well,” Fitz began to shift his weight off of her, “I suppose that means we ought to-” 

“-have another go?” she finished, biting her lip hopefully. He stopped. At his likely dumbfounded expression, she giggled and pushed her hips up against him again. “I mean since we’re here and all, and learned so much and clearly have decent chemistry at this sort of thing… why not?”

“Uh, yeah,” he said, sinking back into her. “Good idee...  Practice does make perfect after all!”

“Absolutely,” she mumbled, letting desire overtake her. “And Fitz?” she looked at him seriously as he pushed her knees up higher. “Remind me to grab that diary on our way out of here.”


End file.
